The Distant Legend
The legend began the way all true things do — in the silence between heartbeats, in the space where a name dissolves into wind. Arthur Pendelton stood at the edge of the chalk cliffs of Dover and watched the sea eat the horizon, one grey wave at a time. He was fifty-four, with the lean build of a man who had spent too many years walking places that had no reason to be walked to. His coat —...
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